The Typhon Project

Chapter Seven: A Thousand Lasts

Dr. Rail came to escort me to The Farm? I allowed the words to sink in. No, that couldn't be. I yanked my hand from Mom's grasp. "I'm not going yet."

Dr. Rail tilted her head, probably so she could speak down to me more effectively. "Leah, there is nothing more you can do here. Your mother called us this morning to come get you."

I sprang off the couch and glared at Mom. "You called them? No, no! I'm not going. You need me here!"

Mom tugged down on my hand, but I held my ground. "Honey, it's for the best. And I'll be fine. I don't have much longer left."

"I'm staying until . . . until . . . ." The words jammed in my throat.

Mom peered down at her lap and sighed.

My breathing hitched. "And Graeme, I need to take care of him."

"I'm sorry, Leah, but Graeme is no longer with us," Dr. Rail said.

"What? No. He wouldn't. No!" I began to tremble.

Dr. Rail lifted her chin. "You see, Leah, there's no reason to linger here."

I balled my hands into fists. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! You don't know anything!"

"Dr. Rail, could you leave us for a few minutes? I'll send her out to the car in a bit. Once she has her things together," Mom said.

Dr. Rail nodded and then strode out the door.

Tears tumbled down my cheeks; I didn't bother trying to stop them. "Mom, why are you doing this?"

Mom patted the cushion beside her. "Sit down next to me." She took my hand and, this time, I allowed her to pull me to her side. "I can see what this is doing to you, and I hate that you're hurting all the time. You've been surrounded by death for too long. Life is waiting for you, and it's time for you to find it. Leave the dying behind and move forward."

"But, I want to take care of you. Who is going to look after you? I'll worry about you all the time."

She inhaled and then slowly exhaled. "When you leave . . . I'm going to leave too." She patted the pocket of her chenille and something rattled inside. She pulled out a prescription bottle, twisted the cap and poured the Red Pill onto her palm. "I think Lindsay had the right idea."

I gasped. "How'd you know?"

"Lindsay had a lucid moment. She came downstairs." Tears pooled in Mom's eyes. "She said she was so sorry for hurting you. She told me what she was going to do, and we hugged and said our goodbyes. I told her not to wake you. We both knew you'd try to stop her."

I drew a ragged breath. "How could you just . . . just . . . ."

"She was suffering. She wasn't going to get better. She wanted relief." I lay my head on Mom's shoulder, and she stroked my cheek and said, "Dad's asleep. Lindsay's asleep. I envy them; I'm tired too."

I wrapped my arms around her and crushed her into me. She smelled of soap and lotion and—Mom. She smelled like Mom. I breathed the scent in until my lungs were full. "I love you. I don't want to go."

"I love you too, baby, but you need to. So, be a good girl and go save the world okay?"

I pulled away and looked at her through tear blurred eyes. She cradled a strand of my hair on her palm. "Go upstairs and pack your bag and then get me a glass of water before you go, okay?"